


Ink'd

by protectoroffaeries



Series: High School AU Stories [5]
Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: M/M, Tattoo, bear with me, bear with me guys, do not do as erskine does, he is stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 21:18:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7285096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/protectoroffaeries/pseuds/protectoroffaeries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erskine gets a tattoo. It's kind of illegal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ink'd

**Author's Note:**

> Okay guys so:
> 
> 1) I had this idea like a week ago, and I tried to write it, but it didn't work. However, I was in transit today, (for much longer than I originally expected to be, let me tell you), so I had a bit of time to write.
> 
> 2) I know nothing about tattoos and did the absolute  
> bare minimum amount of research possible. My only excuse for that one is that I'm lazy.
> 
> 3) I apologize in advance for Hopeless' real name.
> 
> 4) I'm pretty sure the laws in most states require a person to be at least eighteen to get a tattoo, but I didn't do much research on that either. (I know, I'm sorry!)
> 
> Okay. I'm done. Enjoy this last little nugget before I truly and honestly vacation.

“Erskine Ravel!” 

The light in the kitchen came on suddenly, and Erskine’s heart dropped. His mother was supposed to be working late - some party her bosses were having or something - but apparently it hadn't gone late enough. 

He glanced sideways at the clock above the stove. 11:34. Damn. He really miscalculated his timing.

“I'm sorry, Ma. I lost track of time.” That was about as much of the truth that Erskine could tell her. 

“And where were you, exactly?”

“I was with Hopeless.” A lie.

“That's funny,” his ma said, the frown on her face indicating that it was anything but. She had her arms crossed over her chest, too. Dammit. “Because Barnaby called here and asked where you were.”

Erskine cringed. Barnaby Schlanger II was Hopeless’ real name, but it was such a terrible name that he actually preferred the nickname Hopeless. Erskine tried to get his ma use Hopeless over Barnaby, but she said it was offensive. She found a lot of things offensive.

She would find the tattoo he'd just gotten on his chest offensive. 

“I… well…”

“Give me your phone,” she demanded. Erskine dug his cell phone out of his pocket and placed it in her open palm. She snatched it away, returning to her crossed arms of disappointment stance.

“I called you five times. Why didn't you answer?”

The truth was he'd turned it off before the tattoo artist started because he didn't want to worry about it going off.

“It died. It's kind of shitty.”

“Language,” she snapped automatically. Erskine resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“You're grounded until you decide to be honest with me. Until then, I expect you to go nowhere but school. And you can't see Barnaby.”

“Ma-”

“Upstairs, right now!”

Erskine knew better than to continue arguing. His ma might’ve been small, but she was fierce. And she could still probably beat him with a wooden spoon. Not that she'd ever followed through with that threat. Still.

***

“Erskine!” 

Hopeless’ mother was much happier to see him the next afternoon than his own ma had been the night before. She'd lose that enthusiasm when she found out Erskine was sleeping with her son, but until then he planned on relishing in her positivity. 

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Schlanger,” said Erskine politely. 

“Barnaby’s upstairs - why don't you go see him?” she said, beaming. Hopeless didn't often hang out with friends; apparently his parents had been starting to fear he had none. According to him, that was why they liked him so much. That and he was supposedly a “good influence.” Erskine was actually a terrible influence.

“Thanks.” Erskine went up the stairs as quickly as he could without actually running.

“Erskine?” Hopeless turned away from whatever nerdy thing he was working on at his desk to give Erskine a puzzled look. “I thought you were grounded.”

“I am.”

Hopeless sighed. “Why do you insist on disregarding your mother’s wishes?”

“Because she disregards mine,” Erskine grumbled. 

“Where were you yesterday?” Hopeless asked. He got up and walked passed Erskine to shut the door, even though he could've just asked Erskine to do it. 

“You're either going to love this or hate it.”

Hopeless leaned back against the door. “What did you do?”

Erskine started to take his shirt off to show Hopeless exactly what he did, but Hopeless laid a hand on his shoulder and stopped him.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking my shirt off. You asked what I did yesterday, and I was going to show you.”

“If you're about to show me some horrible bruise-”

“No. Well. It looks kind of bruise-y right now. But no, I didn't hurt myself.”

“What would-” Hopeless paused midsentence. “You didn't.”

Erskine grinned. 

Hopeless sighed, shook his head. “Show it to me.”

Erskine pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Gently, he removed the strip of gauze covering the healing tattoo.

“Erskine…” Hopeless breathed, his eyes fixed on the tattoo.

“It’ll look better when it's healed.”

Hopeless raised his hand, as if he was going to touch it, and then pulled it away. “Does it hurt?” 

“It's a little sore,” admitted Erskine. It was actually really sore. The ache now was more persistent than the pain had been when Foe had tattooed it under his skin.

“It looks kind of like someone took a paintbrush, dipped it in black paint, and flung onto your left pectoral,” Hopeless said, half questioning. 

He obviously wasn't sure what it was supposed to be, but he didn't ask outright. He was probably trying not to hurt Erskine’s feelings, which was so typically Hopeless that Erskine had to laugh.

“It's supposed to look like that,” Erskine said. “Splatter paint.”

“You got a tattoo… that's meant to look like messy black paint?”

“Yes.”

“That's it?”

“You seem disappointed,” Erskine commented, though the thought of Hopeless hoping that he had some extravagant tattoo seemed silly. 

“You could've added some color.”

Erskine laughed, but Hopeless gave him a stern look. “You could get into so much trouble for this, and that's all you did?”

“It's art, Hopeless.”

Hopeless shook his head again, seeming to be at a loss for words. “Fine. You need to keep it clean, though.”

“I know. I cleaned it this morning.”

Hopeless frowned. Erskine wished he wouldn't. When Hopeless smiled, he had dimples which only emphasized the freckles on his cheeks. Erskine preferred that look for him.

“You need to clean it again,” Hopeless insisted.

“When I get home-”

“Just let me clean your damn tattoo, you absolute moron.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Hopeless just sighed once more (he did that a lot - he was lucky Erskine found it cute) and pointed to his bed. “Lay down and try not to do anything stupid. I'll be right back.”

Erskine kicked off his shoes and went over to Hopeless’ bed. Normally, he'd flop on it and mess up Hopeless’ pristine comforter. As it was, he gently laid himself down on top of it, favoring his left side.

Hopeless returned a few minutes later with a small rag in his hand. “It's warm water and a gentle soap.”

Erskine snorted. “I didn't know soap could be gentle.”

“Shut up before I get the rough one.”

Erskine laughed out loud, and Hopeless gave him a small smile. He sat down on the bed next to Erskine and dabbed at the tattoo, then looked at Erskine to gauge his reaction. 

Erskine thought he did an admirable job at not cringing, but Hopeless said, “It’s more than a little sore, isn't it?”

“What gave you that idea?”

“Your face.”

“My face is beautiful.”

“It is,” Hopeless agreed, “except for when it scrunches up, like it did a second ago.”

“Did it?”

“It did.” 

Hopeless ran the rag over part of the tattoo with a much lighter pressure. Erskine didn't cringe this time, but Hopeless looked wary.

“Who did this to you?” Hopeless asked quietly when he was done cleaning all the little splotches of ink. 

“You say that like it wasn't something I wanted.” 

“Whether you wanted it or not, it's still illegal.” Hopeless folded up the rag and set it on his nightstand. 

“Vincent Foe did it for me because he owed me one. And no, you don't want to know why he owed me.”

Hopeless made a noise of displeasure. “I wish you wouldn't do things like this.”

“What?”

“You got a tattoo! From Vincent Foe, who, might I remind you, is a criminal. Did you think before you got it? Did you even tell anyone?”

Erskine blinked. He'd expected Hopeless to call him an idiot, but not to get upset enough that his face turned red and he was near shouting. 

“Are you… mad that I didn't tell you?” 

“No! Yes! I'm mad because you went through with getting a tattoo even though you're seventeen and the only person that'd do it is a fucking thug-”

“Hopeless,” Erskine interrupted. “I'm sorry.”

“You are not.”

“I am. I'm sorry that I've upset you.”

Hopeless huffed, exasperated. Erskine grabbed his hand and held it tightly. “Come here.”

Hopeless still looked annoyed with him, but he laid down beside Erskine and curled into his right side.

“I love you, but you're a moron.”

“I am indeed. I love you, too.”

“if my mother comes up here, she'll kill you.”

Erskine smiled. “Then I'd die a happy man.”


End file.
